Hitogoroshi no Aisuru
by JuhnSa
Summary: "The Love of a Murderer"....Gokou, once an assassin, now trying to be normal...is finding that people aren't the nicest creatures out there...Romance and action..^_^
1. Departure

…Okay, this is my fanfic. Before reading this you must understand that I am not following the stereotyped characters. In other words, any characters from Sailor Moon I use, well, they are not sailor scouts, rather, ordinary girls, just as any DBZ characters I use, are not saiya-jin…or what-not. Gokou is an assassin, though he has great fighting skills in my fanfic, he cannot shoot ki blasts.  
  
Also…I don't own any of the characters used in this story….yeah…  
  
Enjoy! ^_^  
  
******  
  
"Are you crazy?!" Or maybe, I am… "You can't leave!! We won't allow that!! I won't allow that!!" Dokusha's thunderous voice hid his dread and slight fear. "You know what will happen if you leave! You cannot put your life behind you; it will never leave you…never!" He adequately emphasized the never hoping to convince his agent to forget his decisions. "If you leave, we will come and get you…you know that Son," sweat beads slowly rolled through the creases on his frowning forehead as his beady eyes stared at the agent with contempt.  
  
                Silence slowly crept into the room seeming to threaten Dokusha. All the while, this so-called agent stood gravely before his manager, expressionless, with all senses alert. To Dokusha, all aspects of this situation were threatening. Even the stance in which the agent stood, his face, his calm breathing appeared menacing to him—yet he was still in control. Wasn't he?  
  
                Silence.  
  
                Dokusha's breathing became quicker-panicked-as he could not withstand the torturing silence.  He reached for the button to call security and end the agony, but jerked back quickly in pain as a gleam swept past his hand. Gradually, blood began to surface in the precise slit made across his hand. Shocked, yes, but he was more saddened than shocked, for Dokusha had been slapped in the face with the realization that he was no longer the strongest. No longer in control.  
  
                The agent held his dagger in the air as if it were a gun (close enough); he had easily turned the situation around so that the advantage was his—simple. The blood trickled off the end of the dagger as his fist tightly gripped the blade's hilt. His two green eyes penetrated through Dokusha like a bullet—he kept staring. Dokusha managed to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Those eyes… Somehow Dokusha knew that those eyes would be the last things he saw before his death. His agent continued to stare at him, if one would call it a stare-it could be called a mixture between a glare and a gaze…and yet…neither. A strand of his pristine golden hair slipped from its place and drooped down across his forehead, adding to the agent's attractive flawless facial features.  
  
                Son Gokou knew that Dokusha was right. He would never be able to forget this life, nor would he be able to escape his past, but he did know that he could try. "Goodbye…Dokusha…" his voice—intense—stabbed at the blanket of silence in the room. The masculine figure bowed then rose and gazed back. He could read the scorn and hatred Dokusha was trying so hard to conceal, but he could not read the worry and fear. "I'm afraid…this time…I won't be coming back…" The words hung, suspended in the air as Gokou swirled around and strode out of the office.  
  
                Dokusha stood silent, appalled, waiting for the words to quit ringing in his head…  
  
I won't be coming back…I won't be coming back… Part of him couldn't help but wonder: Was this the end of his agency?  
  
   
  
******  
  
   
  
                The metal door swung ajar, revealing the massive room swamped with file-cabinets. Gokou stood for a second, glancing around. This place is oddly unkempt; I wonder how our agency even kept up-to-date with everything. He scanned the room for the file-cabinet labeled "S" and wrenched open the drawer with full force almost sending the drawer flying out of the cabinet. I need to control my strength…it could be hazardous. A small grin formed on his face at the thought, but he quickly brushed the thought away and thrust his hand into the drawer. After rummaging through the files for a moment, he finally grabbed hold of the folder he had sought after. Was his hand trembling? No. But now, it was time. At last, Son Gokou will be able to leave the agency-with his file-and start a new life.  
  
                But one question haunted Gokou… Who am I now?  
  
   
  
******  
  
   
  
                His thumb knowingly caressed the bandaged wound on his hand while thought after thought plummeted into his mind. Dokusha's face showed the signs of his old age—51—worn and stretched. Gokou had become the best of the best, he sadly smirked, and all thanks to me he is now leaving. Or should I say…left? His grief-stricken eyes seemed to be empty, as if someone could look right into him and then see…nothing.  
  
                "I'll get him back…" Dokusha pronounced to particularly nobody. He tried to give his voice fake determination hoping he could fool himself into believing his statement. However, something inside Dokusha told him he might never get Gokou back—and that something terrified him.  
  
   
  
******  
  
   
  
                Name: Son Gokou  
  
                Code Name: Kakkarotto  
  
                Age: 17  
  
                Occupation: Assassin  
  
                Training: Trained to assassinate from age 3 to age 15  
  
Missions Completed: Assassination of: Mafia president, Chisujo; President of the U.S., William Clinton (and wife, Hillary Clinton); Communist leader, Kishu; Leader in the Defense Department of the U.S., Sunao Kino (and wife, Usui Kino); and a number of suspected military spy syndicates for U.S. (24 dead)  
  
   
  
                …The word assassin seemed to stand out more than anything to Son Gokou.  From age 3 to age 15… Jesus. What have I become? Sadness draped itself over Gokou, hanging on him like an anchor on a ship. It wasn't just the fact he was an assassin that bothered Gokou...it was also the fact that this list was "out-of-date". Meaning, simply, he was now 18 and he had killed twice as many people listed in the "Missions Completed" field.  Yet, this wasn't the unusual thing. The thing that bothered Gokou beyond toleration: He didn't have any feelings about death anymore. Yes, that's correct. Death means nothing. The only reason I mourn is that I have ended these people's lives short. But, no matter how hard I try; I cannot seem to gather even the smallest morsel of guilt. Why? It was all these questions, and all the confusion that brought Gokou to his decision to leave the agency.  
  
He had to get away… from Dokusha, from killing… from himself.  
  
******  
  
..Hope you liked it. The action will come soon….^_^ Belieeeve me…I have plans for this story…;]~… 


	2. A World Anew

Man, it's been a looooooong time since I've written. But, I finally found the time amidst everything to add to my story. I know it's not much, but perhaps it's enough to sustain those who read my story until I can get a nice lengthy chapter up. So, enjoy…^__^ Thank you for being so patient.  
  
******  
  
"Nanda?!?! Die Scorpion! Diiiiiiiiie!!!" she quickly took in a breath of air between her ranting.  
  
"Ne…Mako-chan…Calm down…" a chuckle followed.  
  
Makoto pressed pause on the game and turned to her loyal friend, Ami, and smiled. She quickly resumed playing the video game. Her forest green eyes were focused intently on the screen, observing the moves of her computer opponent with deliberation. Her silky hair, a deep brown, had been delicately pulled up into a ponytail—simple and beautiful. Across the room, comfortably reclined on the couch, sat Ami with her dainty glasses poised on her appealing little nose. She was greatly involved in the book she was reading, although, she would never forget to compliment Makoto occasionally as to keep her from ceasing playing the game and becoming incessantly bothersome. Of course, that was one of the qualities of Makoto that Ami enjoyed—though she dare not admit it to her friend.  
  
"Ami, weren't you supposed to call someone…? Hmmmm?" Makoto grinned subtly and nudged Ami in the side.  
  
"Call someone? Who..—Oh no!!!" Ami snapped shut her book. Leaping off the couch, looking like an Olympic star, she raced across the room, over the coffee table, and slid to a finish in front of the phone. She cleared her throat, then, while brushing aside her short aqua hair, she picked up the phone innocently, and dialed the number…  
  
Makoto, greatly intrigued by her friend's mad-dash to the phone realized that something was missing in her life…something her friend had…something she wanted…  
  
******  
  
"Are you just going to SLEEP while the phone RINGS IN MY EAR?!?!" His eyes, bloodshot, glared at his friend. "Fine! I'll answer it if you won't get up!!!!" Slipping out of his bed, Gohan slowly dragged himself from one side of the apartment to the next, and finally, to the perpetual phone. "Hello?" annoyance dripped from his tone, while Gohan struggled to keep his eyes open.  
  
"…is…Trunks…there?..." she inquired in the most timid pitch possible.  
  
"Ami?" Gohan's rubbed his forehead sluggishly. "Is that you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Aww…Gomen Ami-san. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'll go get Trunks." Gohan quietly placed the phone down on his pillow then, with all his strength—for he was a muscular boy—he kicked Trunks in the side, forcing his friend to shoot off the bed and land on the floor with a thunderous THUMP.  
  
A prolonged groan could be heard from the floor, muffled noises, and then, Trunks stood up, looking like a ghost, for the sheets were draped over him. Even though he knew Gohan could not see his face, he gave him an icy cold glare, hoping to freeze Gohan so he could never be mobile again.  
  
Gohan ripped the sheets off Trunks, exposing his friend to the world. "The phone…it's Ami lover-boy."  
  
Trunks eyes brightened, though still adjusting to the bright light that Gohan had so conveniently flicked on. "Put some clothes on Gohan! Lord!" Trunks, being a very modest lavender-haired boy, slept with boxers and a tank top, but his friend, on the contrary, slept in plain old boxers.  
  
"Trunks, just answer the phone." Gohan turned around and headed back to bed, rubbing his well built abdomen with satisfaction—adding to his massive ego.  
  
Trunks grumbled, but decided to shrug off his conceited friend. "Ami?" his voice spilled through the phone.  
  
"Trunks!" Ami beamed, "you wanted me to call you, right?"  
  
"Yea…" Trunks smiled…  
  
******  
  
Well, that's all for now. ^_^ Please…R&R. 


	3. Remembrance

…so...HOPEfully this chapter will catch your attention. ^_^ Enjoy…  
  
******  
  
~…Assassins never fear Gokou … do you understand?...~  
  
The small 7-year-old boy stared into the pleasant household. He gripped his katana, observing the family, seeing the tenderness that filled the room. How he longed to be in a family…how he desired love…something he had never known. When Dokusha found him…at 5…he was a naïve dusty boy—nothing more, nothing less. Dokusha…what had he said?  
  
~…You do not feel anything…no pain…no love…no sorrow…~  
  
He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but the boy quickly wiped them away…  
  
~…They do not cry, Gokou, they do not have any emotions…~  
  
The small girl ran into her father's arms. He embraced her with affluent devotion and compassion. A soft giggle escaped the child's delicate lips, as she snuggled against her father's seemingly safe bulk. The mother smiled toward her family, placing a hand over her heart. A twinge of grief entered the boy's soul…but he quickly shoved it out…  
  
~…No guilt…no sadness…and especially Gokou…no fear…~  
  
It is time…The boy clenched his weapon of death and leapt onto the roof above, with grace and stamina. Silently, he crossed the squeaky shingles, never once making a noise, passed the chimney, and finally ceased before the skylight. Peering in…  
  
~…Assassins kill without hesitation…never leaving a track behind…~  
  
He opened the skylight, his small hands quivering...  
  
~…one mistake…and the assassin will be caught and killed…~  
  
The boy closed his bright green eyes, took in a deep soothing breath, swallowed the lump in his throat, and leapt through the skylight. His precision of his landing could not have been calculated better...  
  
~…you must be perfect…you must not fail Gokou…ever…~  
  
The carpet gave way to Gokou's apprehensive footsteps, not one audible noise came from this young assassin. He paused…he listened with acute hearing to the voices… "Good night my little butterfly…" It was the father. He was merely giving his daughter a good night kiss. Gokou crept on. The glint of his katana gave him courage…now Gokou…He darted through the shadows—stop. The father and the mother were getting ready for bed. NOW! In the next instant, the sound of skin being penetrated filled the silent room. The katana emerged through the front of the father—in his gut. Rather than glimmering, it dripped with the liquid of death. Pulling it back out, the man fell to the ground, moaning. Shut-up!! Again and again, the blade pierced the body, until it lay limp in a red pool. Footsteps…  
  
~…never leave a track behind....~  
  
A gasp…silenced…a katana at her throat. The boy's eyes held no mercy in them…as he intently stared at the mother. Tears began streaming down her cheeks, her chin, and her whole face. The boy winced…no…don't hesitate…Her eyes begged him to let her live, his heart told him the same. Yet, Dokusha's voice entered his head again and the blade entered her neck, piercing the artery, which seemed to explode. Blood spewed, splattering the boy as he stood there with his weapon in her throat. Her eyes, once tender, once full of life and love, glazed over, as blood seeped down her lifeless body. At that moment, all emotions left the poor boy. He stood there, empty. In silence he came…in silence he left…  
  
~…You are ruthless, heartless, and cold-blooded…You are an assassin now, Gokou, my boy…~  
  
Gokou jolted up. His sheets were in a crumpled mess on the floor. Every part of his body felt the passion of an assassin…his blood boiling…his head throbbing…his senses alert….  
  
…The silent room…  
  
******  
  
That's it. Sorry…I know it was kind of weird…but, oh well. ^_^ I'll write some more later. 


	4. Longings

Well…hopefully you're hooked by now. Sooo….please…R&R…and enjoy. Tell me what you think…  
  
******  
  
"Ahhh…" the sigh drifted from her lips into the air. The smile from the night was permanently pasted across her adorable face. Ami practically floated into the apartment, her head was in the clouds still…she loved Trunks so.  
  
Makoto had draped herself on the couch in a most awkward position. Her head was dangling over the edge, with her beautiful hair hanging elegantly—wispy and attractive. One arm was stretched across onto the coffee table, and the other lay primly at her side. Then, her feet, dangled over the edge…slippers on both.  
  
Ami chuckled at the sight of her dear friend.  
  
Makoto twitched…then one eye slowly opened…(I must say…slowly). "Ami- chan…?" Her voice cracked, as she wearily sat up, rubbing her face.  
  
"I'm home Mako-chan."  
  
"Goooooooooooooooooooooood…" croaked the dreary friend.  
  
"I see you got comfortable.." Ami grinned.  
  
"Yep. I was waiting for you to get home. I wanted to talk." Makoto's expression was more serious than usual.  
  
Ami sat down next to her friend…her blue eyes waiting patiently for Makoto to spill forth herself.  
  
"Wellll…Ami-chan…you see," Makoto hesitated. Her eyes glanced down as her finger traced the embroidery on the couch over and over again. "I want someone…"  
  
Ami frowned, "…want someone?" she repeated in a direct tone.  
  
"Yeah…" Makoto's voice was quieter than normal. "I…see you and Trunks together. You are so happy with him. I have never ever ever had that Ami. I want someone to love me like Trunks loves you. You two make each other so happy…and I'm like an old HAG sitting at home…I only attract pompous morons who think they're 'all-that.'" Her head hung as she finished her statement.  
  
"Ohh…Mako-chan…" Ami looked at her friend sympathetically. "You'll find that someday…but I wouldn't expect anything too soon. We're only in high school…" She smiled understandingly, then added, "I just happened to get lucky."  
  
"Ohhhhhh! Ami-chan!" Makoto leapt forward to hug her friend. "You don't know how lucky you are!!! Even though I would NEVER date Trunks for I don't like him in the least...but he DOES treat you well…so I'm pleased.." She remarked candidly.  
  
"Don't worry about it…let's just get some sleep…Tomorrow is the first day of school. A brand new year."  
  
"Yeah…that will be nice…"  
  
******  
  
  
  
Gokou rolled over in bed, knowing that it was time for his first day of school. He furrowed his face into the downy pillow—his purpose is unknown. Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed, his muscular body shifting with every movement. As he proceeded to put on his clothes, he glanced over at one lonely item. His katana…It sat there, soon to gather dust in this new year. What would it be like to walk around without my katana? Gokou thought. Standing there in his boxer shorts, Gokou suddenly shivered…better put some clothes on dimwit.  
  
Gokou slid a simple white t-shirt over his lean, built body. Unlike his previous clothing, it clung tightly to the muscles in his abdomen and chest. He tried to stretch it, but he knew it was a worthless feat. Oh well…he mused. Gokou slipped into some dark denim jeans and looked up into the mirror as he buckled the belt. I suppose this will do.  
  
Snatching his backpack as he advanced out, he slipped a gun underneath his pants into his socks.  
  
...just incase…  
  
******  
  
Yea…hope you liked it. Tell me how I'm doing so far. ^_^ 


	5. Arrival

…Chapter 5….o_o...yeah…  
  
******  
  
As the final bell rang for school, the students filed into the building, many seemed to still be on vacation.  
  
"Another monotonous year…" Trunks commented.  
  
Gohan, who was half-awake and half-asleep, simply nodded into response to his friend.  
  
Trunks sighed, "Finally, we're seniors."  
  
"Can I sleep on your backpack?" Gohan inquired as he followed Trunks into the school hallways.  
  
"No…" Trunks pulled his backpack away from Gohan. "Go find your own pillow."  
  
"You butt…"  
  
Trunks just shook his head…  
  
  
  
******  
  
  
  
Ami departed with her friend and headed down senior hall, though only a sophomore, majority of her classes were indeed in senior hall.  
  
Makoto exhaled with exasperation. Her eyes scanned over the crowd of students. Same old faces…same old people…she thought. That is, until her eyes caught sight of the golden-yellow haired figure. Now he's new…she smiled to herself. With curiosity, she watched him. Her eyes studied his movements and expressions. Wow…he's ripped…very nice…I mean…..no Makoto…bad thoughts… Her eyes drifted to his face. She noted his green emerald eyes…they appeared…hurt…lost…lonely…tender.  
  
Gokou watched the people—each student seemed almost meaningless to him even though his soul purpose for going to school was to socialize with these "people." He felt someone watching him…someone far away…yet in the vicinity. His eyes shot over to Makoto. They locked with her deep green eyes.  
  
He sees me staring!! Makoto quickly looked away and dashed forward into the classroom.  
  
Gokou's gaze followed her. He felt something he had never experienced before…attraction. Her slender shapely figure, her delicate molding, her fragile face, her dainty steps…everything was so enchanting. Though many girls were attractive…she was the only one yet…to really…notice him. Gokou continued to run the thoughts over and over in his head as he entered his class—the first one…ever.  
  
******  
  
The class was quiet. Gokou felt secure in its silence, for silence was what he grew up with. Everyone was tense, nervous, tired, or shy. Gokou sensed all their emotions…as he had none in his pastime, he found that it allowed him to study and find other people's emotions. In doing so, Gokou would sometimes discover his own emotions, such as envy. He envied those who were fortunate enough to have grown up in an environment such as this. He also found his longings and even his fears. He longed for a home…a friend…and many other things. He feared sleep…for he knew things haunted him there. His only enjoyable time was when things were silent. Upon his discovery of his emotions, Gokou had realized that Dokusha had lied…assassins DO have emotions…and he didn't want to work for a liar---…  
  
"Class, please, turn in your assignments then feel free to talk." The teacher stated, and then returned to her desk.  
  
The classroom suddenly buzzed with noise. Gokou didn't know what to do. Should I talk to someone? No…they all stare at me…they know I'm different…For god sakes…I'm a senior without any credits. Gokou released a burdensome sigh. He decided he would just listen…  
  
"Does this skirt look good on me?"  
  
"I hate school…"  
  
"What did you put in your paper?"  
  
"How was summer?"  
  
"She's hott…"  
  
Then, Gokou caught ear of a particular conversation about….him.  
  
"Look at the new guy."  
  
"He's sorta…okay…I guess."  
  
"He's scary…"  
  
"well…he is kinda buff too.."  
  
"No, he's scary…and quiet…"  
  
"Shh…he might hear you…."  
  
Gokou turned from them…He wanted to shut them out. He wanted to shut all the voices out. He longed for that silence the classroom used to have. He longed to see…that girl.  
  
  
  
******  
  
Okay…that's it for now. ^_^ I promise…more action and romance to come!! ^___^ please review! How am I doing? 


	6. The Surroundings

Alrighty…here's some more…I seem to be enjoying myself as I'm writing…so…please keep reviewing! :]~  
  
******  
  
"Okay…class…" The teacher began her lesson, trying to get the students' attention. "Class, listen, please be quiet. CLASS!!!!" Her voice echoed down the hallways as the classroom abruptly grew silent. "Thank you," she resumed her teaching.  
  
Gokou observed the teacher, listening to her lecture about poetry and literature. "It's something to express your emotions with" she said…I don't know about that, Gokou reflected, but I suppose I must learn it if I must attend 'school.'  
  
"Your assignment, due at the end of this class period—might I add—is to write a paper on death. I want you to express your feelings, sentiments, attitudes, voices, opinions, and what-have-you toward death. I expect at least a page, students. Get to work!" And with that, the assignment was given…and expected.  
  
Death? How am I supposed to write about death? Gokou stared at his blank paper. I can't tell her: "Well, gee, I was an assassin, I killed as a job." He wrinkled his brow in contemplation. I have no feelings for death…it has become meaningless to me. Ever since…that family…the little girl…I have not felt anything. I have become a cold, ruthless…Gokou stopped. He knew those were Dokusha's words coming into his head…so he immediately pushed them out. Dokusha, I will soon be rid of you…he thought calmly.  
  
Interrupting Gokou's thoughts, the teacher stood up, "Okay…turn in your assignments please. I hope you all did your best…and wrote something…worthwhile…" Her tone would change dramatically on certain words—Gokou wondered why she bothered.  
  
He wrote his name at the top of his paper…then jotted down… "Death"…and handed it in for a grade…  
  
…Death…  
  
******  
  
  
  
"Hey Makoto…" the voice held its usual cocky air to it.  
  
Makoto's eyes gradually shifted over to look at the boy. She knew it was Gohan…and she didn't want to talk to him. "Hi Gohan."  
  
Gohan leaned across the lunch table. Then, he began talking, aimlessly blabbing on and on about his clothes, his hair…sometimes about her clothes…or her hair…but mostly about…HIMSELF.  
  
God, Makoto fumed, why can't he just take a hint and take a hike? Every year… 'Heeeey Makoto' I just want to punch hi—her thoughts paused as she saw 'him' walking into the cafeteria. Her eyes pursued him, watching his subdued motions and expressions. His hair, he didn't even bother with it, as a strand would fall before his eyes—something Makoto found incredibly attractive.  
  
"Makoto? Makotooooo?" Gohan's voice whirred in her ear like the school bell did every period.  
  
"What, Gohan??" She finally returned.  
  
"You weren't listening…"  
  
"Yes, I am…" She let out a sigh in pure vexation. Oh no! She looked around. Where did he go? Her eyes darted back and forth around the cafeteria…but no 'mysterious buff man', as Makoto put it, could be found. Wait, she saw the exiting doors open, she threw her vision in that direction and was pleased. With lowered head, he walked through the doors that lead to the outside. Poor guy…he seems so lonely…maybeeeee, I'll talk to him after school…Makoto smiled at the thought.  
  
"Oh? So you think I am cute?" Gohan inquired.  
  
"What? When did I say that?" Makoto's eyebrows raised in confusion.  
  
"Well, you smiled when I asked you that…" Gohan pointed out triumphantly.  
  
"Gohan…" Her voice stopped, "nevermind."  
  
…The ringing bell…  
  
******  
  
That was it. Hope you found pleasure in my fanfic. Stay tuned for chapter 7….and so on. ^_^ R&R Please! 


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